Timeless
by bandgirlz
Summary: Hitsugaya, Matsumoto, and their life together. A scene at a time in fits and starts, this is a place for all of the moments that just don't fit into a linear story line. All HitsuMatsu, some in the same "universe," but not necessarily in any order. Chapter 2: A Different Kind of Confession. Is Matsumoto too old for love?
1. Aging

**Aging**

Rangiku's shriek had Toushirou standing in the bathroom door with Hyourinmaru drawn before he could exhale. When he didn't see an intruder, he sheathed his zanpaktou and started looking around for something smaller.

"What is it?" he demanded, still wary of the sheer horror reflected in her gray-blue eyes.

She turned to him in scary-movie slow motion. "T-taichou?"

"Yes?"

"I'm turning into an old hag!" she wept, launching herself at him.

He caught her, befuddled, but finally registering that this wasn't an emergency.

"I'm going to get old and ugly and you're going to leave me," she whined, burrowing closer to his chest. He rubbed her back.

"Don't be an idiot."

She sniffed, pulling back, and he saw actual tears pooling in her eyes. "But Taichou, I-I—."

"You what?"

"I found a gray hair!"

Hitsugaya Toushirou was not known for dramatic displays of emotion. Even hilarity. And yet it took everything in him not to fall on the floor laughing. "I-is that so?" he stuttered, holding in a smirk.

"Yes!" Her tone made it clear that the world was ending.

He sighed. "Let me see."

She pointed to a place on her part, and he leaned her head down so he could see better. There it was, a single, nearly translucent hair. He gave it a tug, but it slipped right out with no resistance.

He frowned at it, holding it up to the light. "Matsumoto, this is my hair! Were you using my comb again? I told you not to get your girly product gunk all over it!"

"Oops. But I couldn't find mine!"

"A likely story."

Suddenly his arms were full of Rangiku again. "Taichou, do you know what this means?"

"You're buying me a new comb?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'm not getting old!"

Her expectant stare meant he had to say something. "Um, good?"

"Taichou!"

"What?"

This time her voice was quiet. "Would you love me even if I turned into an old, ugly hag?"

"Of course," he whispered, and kissed her.

When she was breathless he added, "As long as you don't use my comb."


	2. A Different Kind of Confession

**A Different Kind of Confession**

By the time Rangiku strolled in the door to the administrative office, it was already dusk. The setting sun played tricks with the light, casting her taichou's hair in tones of red and orange fire. He was there as always, scribbling away at his paperwork without a glance wasted at her entrance.

"Matsumoto, you're late."

She tossed her wrap on the table and sank down on the couch, content. "Sorry Taichou, the Shinigami Women's Association meeting went long." She lay back and stretched, thinking about why. "We had a lot to discuss! One of the new recruits confessed her love to Shuuhei in the central square!" The poor thing had been shaking and sweating too; Rangiku had seen the entire thing. "Some of the girls thought it was romantic." Rangiku had thought it was a little strange, seeing how the girl had never spoken to Shuuhei before, so how did she know she loved him? But if there was one thing the Seireitei needed, it was more romance. "Do you think it's romantic, Taichou?"

He glanced up at her then, teal blue peeking out through stubborn white bangs. "I think people talk about love too much."

"Taichou!" If anything, they didn't talk about it nearly enough.

"It's all that shoujo manga," he continued, in full rant mode. "Girls falling over themselves to confess to guys they just met. It's ridiculous."

"Taichou! You read shoujo manga?" She jumped up from the sofa and started digging around his desk, pushing his paperwork out of the way. "Where do you hide it?"

"That's not it," he snapped, glaring at her. "Hinamori likes it. I was going to pick some up for her last time we were in the living world, but I was so disgusted that I refused to buy it."

"Taichou! I never thought you were one of those guys who doesn't like strong women. Don't be old-fashioned! What's a girl supposed to do, wait for a guy all the time?" Disappointed, she trudged back to the sofa and flopped down. While she might not approve of confessing love to a man one didn't even know, she felt obligated to defend a woman's right to do so.

"Well, why not?" he asked, his tone oddly wistful. "If a man is in love with a woman, he'll make the first move."

"So we women should just wait by the phone for some man to ask us out? Sexist, taichou!"

"You're wrong. You think confessing to every man you find attractive is empowering? You're encouraging men to wait around, watch you beg for their attention, and then reject you. You're giving your power away."

She thought about that. Had that girl really looked empowered? Mostly she had seemed scared, and then, when Shuuhei let her down gently, humiliated and heart-broken. And Shuuhei was a sweetheart. Most Shinigami guys wouldn't worry about something like letting a girl down easy. Then there was all that stress about should she or shouldn't she confess, and where and when and with who around. It would be much easier to just wait for the guy. But a girl couldn't _always_ wait, could she?

"What if he hasn't noticed her yet? Then she can't wait for him to come to her."

"Fine, I suppose in that case she can approach him," he said, but she could tell it was more obligatory than not. He was obviously sorry he'd gotten into this conversation, and now he wanted out.

She took the victory. "See, women have a duty to confess their love in case the object of their affections hasn't noticed them yet. It's the law of love!"

He dropped his pen and groaned. "What does love have to do with it? I meant she should talk to him, not tell him she loves him! If he hasn't noticed her, how can she possibly be in love with him, Matsumoto? Love doesn't spring up out of the sea fully formed. It needs time." The earnestness of his gaze paralyzed her. "Love needs a reason, Matsumoto."

Rangiku gaped at him. Hitsugaya Toushirou was a romantic. She'd never expected that.

"Have you ever been in love, Taichou?" she blurted out, enthralled by this side of him.

His face shut down and he sighed, turning back to his work. "Who knows?"

Who knew indeed. "I thought I was in love once," she murmured, mostly to herself, remembering those teenage years with Gin. "When he was around, my heart beat so fast I swore the whole world could hear it. It was so thrilling when he was around, and when he wasn't there, all I could think about was the moment I would see him again."

The silence swelled around them, the only sound the scratch of pen on paper, comforting in its familiarity. And then her taichou asked, quietly, "What happened?"

He'd run off to become a shinigami without a word; she'd searched for him for years. When she'd finally met up with him, he'd become a fukutaichou already, so distant, so impossible for her to reach. "He left me."

"Then he's an idiot."

She curled up on the couch grinning, all melancholy thoughts of Gin banished by her taichou's offhand words. "Thanks, Taichou."

He just grunted and continued with his work.

"You know what?" she thought out loud. "If that was love, I don't know if I want to go through it again. It was exhausting!" All those highs and lows, the constant anxiety. She shook her head, annoyed with herself. Wasn't she supposed to want love more than anything? "Maybe I'm too old for love. I'll probably end up old and bitter and alone, like the Soutaichou." She remembered who she was talking to and cringed. This was not the place to let loose her insecurities. "You probably think I'm pathetic."

When he spoke, she got goose bumps. "Maybe that's not the only kind of love, Matsumoto. If love exists at all, I have to believe that there's a type that builds you up instead of breaking you down. You should have less to worry about, not more. It should be—"

"—comfortable?" she asked. She gave in to her need to touch him in that moment, walking over and settling behind him, her crossed arms on the back of his chair, her chin resting in the silk of his hair. She could no longer imagine her life without him in it.

Where once he would have sputtered and pushed her away, he merely glanced up at her and continued writing. "Exactly."

Her hands slipped over his shoulders, pressing the knots from his muscles. He pushed away from his desk then, letting his work fall to the side and dropping his head back with a moan. She knew he loved her massages.

"Like this?" Her tone was soft, their lives hanging in the balance.

He blinked and his eyes went impossibly wide. "Are you confessing to me, Matsumoto?"

"Of course not, Taichou! I would never do that!" she said, fighting back a blush. Like she could confess after a conversation like this! But then familiarity made her bold. "I'm just giving you an opportunity to notice me."

She watched understanding dawn on her face, along with suspicion. "_Oh_. Is this because you're afraid of becoming an old maid?"

"No!" she snapped, turning away and crossing her arms. "What do you take me for?"

"You have to admit the timing is suspicious."

"I don't have to admit anything, actually," she huffed. "Look, I'm not saying I'm in love with you, Taichou. I think we already established that neither of us really knows what love is. But those things you said about what love should be like, I—I feel those things with you," she admitted, the words flowing from her in a torrent of truth. "I like being around you. I feel better when you're here, stronger, like I can do anything, even mess up, and it's still okay. You make me feel good. Plus, it's not like you're unattractive." Oops. "I mean—"

He snorted, cutting her off. "A simple no would have sufficed, Matsumoto."

She turned to see him stalking toward her, an unfamiliar expression on his face.

Oh God, he was going to reject her. She opened her mouth to laugh it off, to call it all a joke, but she couldn't. The fluttering in her stomach wouldn't quit, and why was this everything she hated about love?

"I've never thought about you like that Rangiku," he said.

She closed her eyes, waiting for him to deal the final blow. A cool palm cupped her cheek, pulling her head down, and her eyes snapped open just in time for their lips to meet. It was more of a brush than a kiss, just the mere hint of a touch before he pulled away. But he kept his hand in place for a long time afterward as they stared at each other, breathing hard for no conceivable reason.

She touched her lips and the spell was broken. He stepped back, and her cheek felt cold, already accustomed to his touch.

"I'll need some time to think about it."

"O-of course."

He turned away and she wanted to sink through the floor.

"In the meantime, I suppose I ought to take you out for dinner," he said, pausing. "Rangiku."

"I'd like that. Toushirou." She waited for his icy wrath, but all she got was a crooked half-smile and a nod toward the door.

"Let's go. I'll take you to that ramen place you like."

"Yum!" She flung her wrap around her shoulders and dashed after him. "Ooh, wait, that's too messy, let's go get yakitori!"

"You know I hate yakitori."

"Oh yeah." She knew he didn't. He just didn't want to go to a bar. "Want to check out that new sushi place outside the West Gate?"

"All right."

She realized she was still wearing her shihakusho. "Oh no, I have to change!"

"Oh no, you don't, that'll take hours. This isn't that kind of date."

"_Every_ date is that kind of date!"

"Not this one."

"You're just saying that because you don't want to wait."

"True."

"Taichou!"

"Besides, I think you look nice."

As she stopped and stared at him, the door closed behind them.

Leaving a pile of unfinished work on the desk.


End file.
